Grounded. Surrounded. Reconciled. Restored.

Monthly Archives: July 2017

The following was written a year ago after I stumbled upon one of the biggest miracles I’ve ever experienced. This place is a piece of heaven on earth. A sacred place where Gods love lives if He gave it an earthly address. The thing is. . .He had to tell someone to build it. And they had to be obedient. Thank you Bud and Lynda Lynn for your obedience And my great blessing:

A few years ago, probably more than a few- actually- I read the book “The Shack. ” It touched me deeply. . . The themes of God being real in our lives in the form of three persons– of him very literally inviting us on adventures and intimate journeys with him, and the miracle of finding the truth of who Christ is in the form of our deepest loss made a mark on my heart. And I said to God- “I wish you would do that for me one day. . . ” but in my heart I did not believe He would. I didn’t think God would choose to be that literal with me. An actual note in my mailbox. An actual cabin and “shack” in the woods, an actual serene lake outing with Jesus. That was fiction. And for some reason, in my mind, God had decided to leave that sort of direct, burning bush style communication in a far away land called the Old Testament.
But in the days after Ellis’ homecoming, I did get a postcard in the mail. I tried to dismiss it but I could not . Because every cell in my body reacted to it in a way that only happens when creation responds to its creator. That same day I bought a rose print backpack equally mysteriously. And I knew that note that began “my fellow adventurer” was just a hint of what it would come to mean. But it remained a mystery.

I continued on the hard work of getting reconciled, battling up, grounding and surrounding, and storytelling. . . The next song to sing, the next step of obedience. . . That next hard first or sweet truth. . . I put that adventure note in the back of my mind . . .

Until I arrived at the cabin in Branson . . . Only seeing that little shack of a chapel sprinkled with roses. . . With reminders of Jesus always with his children. . . Rose crowns and thorn crowns. . .angels and babies. . . But a very intentional touch of vintage pink roses everywhere. . .and He whispered check out the woods behind. . . And there’s a cross crowned in a garland of pink roses. . . I ran to the front of the chapel and tried to jerk open the door but it was locked. I soaked in the grounds of the chapel and knew every bit was for me. I peeked in the window like a child and could tell there were real short pews but not much else.

The next morning I laced up for a run but God whispered to try the trail at our condos. . . It led to a private, serene lake much like the one I had imagined years before . . . And Jesus was there.

When I returned the chapel was open and just as I knew it would. . . It blew me away. Vintage rose curtains, little paper roses mounted on pew ends. . . Everywhere I looked – a very specific symbol of something significant between me and Ellis or me and God or all of us. . . A place perfectly prepared. . . Like no other. . . By no other. . . It was a romantic scavenger hunt. . .a dance. . . A peek a boo game laced with surprises. . . The final one would happen the next morning when I would go there there to worship with my family and look down to see a replica of my childhood bible. . . From my baptism that occurred after a holy moment in a patch of woods outside a rustic chapel. . . Singing the beginning and the end . . . And knowing He is the God of both sacred times. . . And knowing for sure that He gives us the desires of our heart in ways we would never expect. I am glad He has allowed my heart to stay open to all He has. . . For a tribe who protects my life with endless rings of sweetness in prayers we call donuts. . . And for going ahead and doing that which I doubt He will – – just to show me who He is and how magnificently He loves me. . .

He sees me kneeling here. . . I offer Him the worship of trusting Him with my tears. . .and He says . . . “She has shown me much love.”

Much Love. Each tear comprised of much love. Each prayer in desperation composed of much love. Each time I look to the Word instead of the World – – an act of much love. . .

My sins which are many are forgiven for I have shown much love. . . To the One Who Is Love. . . who gave Himself up for Love. His feet are absent from my earthly view so I blow a kiss to the heavens. . .

I’m in a new phase of my grief journey. It’s one that’s more intentionally caring of myself and my family. Becoming a caretaker of my own spirit. . .

And as much as possible I am giving myself permission to grieve when it hits me. . . It often “hits” me – – sweeps over me actually at church- – a strong wave of love and longings and brokenness. . . That’s more than I can push back and so I’m swept out with it. . . Wrapped up in the security of my Fathers Wings but allowed to be rocked by the waves.

And because I’m trying to embrace these waves rather than fight them- – I’ve taken the pressure off to ” keep it together ” in front of the crowd. And so among the masses today, I shook the row with my emotion. The river of tears flow freely. And a shift will occur.

The church will be reclaimed as my sanctuary and not my battlefield. I will take a respite from ministering to others but I will enter a retreat where I am ministered to.

I won’t watch the tears roll down my husbands face without being able to hold tight to his hand and whisper truth into the ears that are attached to his soul.

I will enter into a posture of unguarded worship. . . Its the only real worship there is

And it’s more than that. For I’m not the only woman who came to the day in her destiny where she would bear no shame in her tears. Not even close. But there is one that Jesus spoke of directly. . .

He demanded that they look at her- acknowledge her gifts which were only Love. . .

“She wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. . . She has not ceased In kissing my feet. . . Her many sins are forgiven – – for the she loved much.”

And so it is my faith that saves me and I too go in peace. . .

Luke 7: 36-50 tells the whole story and part of it is my story too. What a great author He is. . . Faithfully crafting sequels of salvation for us all . We love much because He is much Love❤️

Since the moment that I began to realize that death itself had touched my child . . . That just as she had been beautifully gifted to us, she had also been taken away. . . From the start. . .

I have been surrounded by Truth. Not scientific truth. Not intellectual truth. Not earthly truth. But Gods Holy Eternal Truth that never changes and is the foundation on which we stand. My mother was the first one to declare it over me in the hallway of the hospital where she was pronounced. . . Not beautiful. Not healthy. But dead. Expired. At rest.

The truth has healed my spirit. It has soothed my soul. It has allowed me to stay connected and even reconciled with the only real source of life- -My God, My Jesus, and His beautiful spirit that He left to tend to mending me.

There’s no way around the beautiful truths that He has revealed to me. But as beautiful and comforting and holy as it is- – This Truth.

It cannot be separated from the pain that brought it. I’ve tried to trade the Truth for the pain. For all that’s good about God to somehow cancel the ripping of my heart- – the assault on my body and soul that this life experienced has delivered.

The truth and the pain are married. It’s not one or the other. They are a package deal. The truth is critical to healing . . .

But I won’t heal on truth alone. Tremendous pain is also a vital part of healing . We do not want that to be as true as the Truth. . .but it is. It’s ok to not be ok because the opposite of being ok is actually how we get to that ok place.

So one piece of the healing puzzle is discovering and believing what God says is true about your situation.

And for me the next piece will be to learn to embrace and properly place the pain – -just as I have the TRUTH. God made us mind. Body. Spirit. All three must be renewed in Him. None can be skipped. Phase 1 for me was most definitely Spirit. I thank God for that. He knew I needed it that way. He is kind and thoughtful. Faithful and All Knowing.

I have reason to believe my mind and body will be healed together, in tandem, simultaneously . . . Because of the strength He has brought to my Spirit.

It will not be easy. It will be hard and holy but I was made by a Holy God. And I was made for hard and holy things. So bring it. . . Bring it On. Bring it hard and fast or sweet and slow. I trust You and I Am Yours God.

But as a note to those who read my words–if I’ve given you the impression that Truth cancels pain, I apologize for that. I will be faithful to share the light He’s shown to me. Both in the places where Truth lives in Triumph and in the places where pain is prescribed and holy. . . There is no shame in pain. The freedom of Christ lives there too.